


Ho, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrapping Christmas gifts and some glog straight from the old country warm up Starsky and Hutch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ho, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum

Ho, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum  
By   
Dawnwind

 

Hutch leaned against the back of the couch with a yawn, cradling his cup in his lap. He was relaxed, happy, and sleepy enough that he should get up and go to bed, but too content to want to disturb the perfect symmetry just yet.

"Put your finger there," Starsky ordered, taking hold of Hutch's forefinger as if it was his to do what he pleased with and placed it squarely on top of the package he was wrapping.

"Starsky!" Hutch complained. He put down his cup so that he didn't spill spiked eggnog all over the paper with red and green elves cavorting in the snow, and diligently held down the edges of the wrapping paper until Starsky finished snipping off several pieces of tape.

Starsky bent over his work, his tongue just poking out past his lips as he applied the tape to the flat package, and Hutch had the very strong urge to lean over and nip that tongue.

Instead, he held up the finished package, examining it critically. "Molly will be able to tell it is a record."

"Anybody could tell it was a record!" Starsky retorted. "Wrap it again, if you want, but there ain't no way to disguise a record unless you put it in a huge box stuffed with those little Styrofoam peanut things, big enough for a piano or something, and then, I bet somehow, you'd still say it looked like a record."

"I was just stating a fact." Hutch selected a bow from the ribbons scattered across the coffee table and fixed it on the front of the gift.

Starsky stared at him suspiciously, the expression on his face plainly showing that he was sure he was being played. "Gimme that," Starsky grumped, yanking the gaily wrapped LP back. He placed it on top of the wrapped pile, enough presents for all the young people in their lives to have a very merry holiday. There were still a number of gifts waiting to be wrapped.

"So, that's just about everything," Starsky said, surveying the pile. "Supertramp album and overnight bag for Molly, Clash album and shaving kit for Kiko, BeeGees and fingernail polish for Lisa, Beatles record and…"

"The Beatles?" Hutch repeated. "It's 1981, you really bought the Beatles for Rosey Dobey? What did you do, raid Tower Records? Shouldn't you get her something more recent?"

"Rosey likes the Beatles," Starsky said patiently, although there was a lot of snark in his mischievous grin. "You told me we'd each get one gift each for them—you didn't specify what!"

"What'd you get for Cal, Elvis?" Hutch said, trying not to respond to that teasing smile. He wanted to wipe it off Starsky's face, with kisses, if not some full on sex.

"If you must know, he wanted Coltrane." Starsky picked up Hutch's cup of rum infused eggnog and drained the contents.

"The boy has good taste," Hutch conceded. "But you got them all records?"

"You got them all practical gifts!" Starsky licked his lips, starring into the cup as if wishing for more eggnog. "You know that kid Chicky we used to see on the streets all the time? He works at Tower Records, got me a discount, saved me lots of money."

Hutch snatched back the cup. "You drank it all!"

"I like stuff with rum in it." Starsky gazed at him in all innocence. "Get some more?"

"I got it the first time!" Hutch aimed a half-hearted kick in Starsky's direction. "You get more—for both of us."

Starsky gave him more of that infuriating grin and stood up lazily, bending over so that he got right in Hutch's face to pluck the cup from his hand. "You want a lot or just a little?"

Damn Starsky, anyway. Hutch's cock went from sleepy to 'yes, please' faster than he could think up a reply to the loaded question. "Give me all you got, Blitzen."

"You think I'm a reindeer?" Starsky chuckled.

"If you've got the antlers, wear 'em," Hutch said, which he knew was stupid, but Starsky's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"So, this is one of those rutting contests?" Starsky thrust his jeans clad groin forward, presenting an impressive display. "We butt horns, fighting for the lone female?'

"I don't see a single girl in the place." Hutch shrugged elaborately, and made sweeping gesture that included the small living room of their shared home, the menorah and Christmas tree on the sideboard, and the pile of gifts for the teenagers in their lives. "But I will fight you for the last of the eggnog, and there'd better be lots of rum in mine this time."

"Didn't you learn to share in kindergarten, Mr. Scrooge?" Starsky walked into the kitchen, his fantastic ass just one more thing Hutch would have fought for. "There's a lot of 'nog left, and half a bottle of Bacardi." Starsky hummed O Tannenbaum while pouring. "But I hate doing more dishes than we have to—and getting two cups is just one more thing to wash."

"You're splitting hairs!" Hutch loosened the top button of his jeans. With his erection, his pants were entirely too tight.

"You're the one who preaches save water, conserve natural resources…" Starsky laughed abruptly, coming back into the living room. "Remember that old Emily Latella skit on Saturday Night Live? She could never hear right and thought it was natural racehorses?"

"Nevermind." Hutch said in a high-pitched voice, picturing Gilda Radner shaking her finger at the camera.

"Nevermind," Starsky echoed, swinging a leg over Hutch's knees so that he could perch on his partner's lap.

Hutch welcomed him with a grin and reached for the cup brimming with smooth creamy eggnog sprinkled liberally with cinnamon. The pungent aroma of rum beguiled him, but Starsky held the treat close to his mouth and took a long drink. Hutch watched, his mouth watering when Starsky tipped his head back, swallowing deeply. His Adam's apple moved down the column of his neck, and Hutch thought about tonguing that delightful spot—right after he got his eggnog back.

"Mmmm," Starsky murmured, pressing the cup to Hutch's lips. "I love stuff with rum in it."

Hutch drank. The thick eggy cream was smooth as silk going down his throat, the warm bite of the rum a pleasing aftertaste that lingered, and the cinnamon perked his taste buds, making him want more. He swallowed again, giving into the rush of sensations overwhelming him. The most noteworthy was Starsky sitting heavily on his thighs with his cock brushing Hutch's. They were both still fully dressed, but that was easily remedied.

"Get off me." Hutch bucked him gently, because Starsky was still holding the half-full cup of eggnog, and Hutch was feeling optimistic.

"I'm not done yet," Starsky said, taking another drink while grinding his hot, insistent cock into Hutch's.

"Starsky!" Hutch groaned, about ready to explode. How did Starsky stay so calm at a time like this?

"Hold your horses." Starsky backed off and slid very slowly down the slope of Hutch's lower legs until he was crouched at Hutch's feet, still holding the precious cup. "You were saying?" Starsky winked lecherously at him, gesturing with the eggnog. "How about unwrapping that present, Santa? I wanna know what's inside. Doesn't look a bit like a record."

"Dummkopf," Hutch said affectionately. He shifted his butt just enough to unzip and pull his jeans halfway down. His heavy, swollen penis sprang out, curving up toward his belly.

"This must be where the rutting and butting comes in."

"I'll give you butting…" Hutch said sternly and then ruined it by laughing.

Starsky nodded and took another drink of the eggnog before passing it off to his partner. He opened his mouth carefully and in one motion, sucked Hutch in, sealing his lips around the throbbing cock.

"Damn!" Hutch sucked in air, his heart going into overdrive. Starsky still had cold, thick eggnog in his mouth when he went down on Hutch, and it was like sinking into quicksand. Combined with the heat from Starsky and Hutch, the nog warmed quickly, but the temperature difference made Hutch break out in goosebumps.

Starsky pulled off just long enough to swallow his mouthful, which only crazed Hutch more. "Starsk!"

"Finish off the rest of that," Starsky urged. "I love anything with rum in it, especially you."

Obeying, because it was probably the only way he was going to get Starsky back on track, Hutch drank the dregs, feeling the sweet little buzz from the alcohol. "You gonna finish me off, now?" he asked, trying very hard not to sound like he was begging.

"Oh, yeah." Starsky breathed against Hutch's flesh, sending a wave of desire through Hutch's belly.

Burying his head between Hutch's legs, Starsky proved what an aficionado he was at the art of giving a blow job. Hutch was sure he would swoon when Starsky pulled off for a second time only to swirl his tongue around Hutch's sac. He went back to licking the cock like a particularly tasty candy stick, using his hands to gently roll the balls back and forth which did nothing to relax Hutch.

Panting, Hutch was quivering with the strain of holding back, but the sensation of having Starsky on his penis was so fantastic that he wanted to prolong it for as long as possible. Feeling like he was going to explode, Hutch peaked, the orgasm spiraling through his body with incredible force.

He was aware of Starsky milking him dry, swallowing the ejaculate, but he didn't want to release the sweetness of the climax.

"Mmm." Starsky wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I swear that even tasted like rum."

"You're putting me on." Hutch reached out to pull Starsky up beside him. He wanted a kiss. "As much as I like doing that, semen is salty and a little bitter, not quite in league with alcohol made mostly from sugar."

"You don't like the way I taste?" Starsky climbed back onto the couch, regarding him with an outrageous pout.

Hutch gathered Starsky in, celebrating the two of them together with a kiss. And then two or three more. "I like the way you taste," he whispered, thrusting his tongue into Starsky's mouth.

Starsky curled his tongue around Hutch's, breathing into him. They communed in this ancient way for a long, long time, and somehow, Starsky ended back on Hutch's lap.

"I like the way you smell, how you sound," Hutch continued. "And how you feel, but you're cutting off the circulation in my legs."

"Yeah?" Starsky grinned wickedly, bouncing up and down on Hutch's bare thighs. "Then turn over, 'cause I got something else in store for you, Donder."

"What if I wanted to be Cupid or Comet?" Hutch asked. A buzz of excitement ran through him in anticipation.

"You started this, calling me Blitzen." Starsky finally bopped off, standing to one side with his hands on his hips.

Pushing his jeans all the way off his ankles, Hutch noticed that he had conveniently or not, positioned himself under the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

"Besides Cupid's a little fat baby with wings…" Starsky reached over to the switch plate on the wall and turned off the lights, leaving the Christmas tree lit. The delicate white bulbs scattered over the tree looked like stars glistening in the night sky.

"I'll give you Cupid." Hutch dipped him in a move worthy of Ramon and kissed Starsky under the mistletoe.

"Okay, you are the god of love. Let's see if you can be Comet, too," Starsky announced when he came up for air.

"Wait a minute, let me figure that one out." Hutch hugged him close, feeling Starsky's ferocious erection butting against his well used cock and thinking about what was about to happen. "Ah ha, I'm about to get one in the tail."

"Smarter than the average bear." Starsky tapped him on the chest. "How about we go into the cave and hibernate together?"

"If that's your way of asking me to sleep with you, you need to get another line, Lothario," Hutch said scornfully, leading the way into their bedroom.

"Get naked, I wanna fuck?" Starsky yanked off his yuletide sweater, which Hutch was quite happy to see go. Not only because it bared Starsky's beautiful, furry chest, but because he really loathed the sweater. It had been Molly's first real knitting project the year before. She's gotten an A in her home studies class for creative stitchery, but the bright red, green and purple colors of the design always made Hutch shudder. Naturally, Starsky loved the sweater.

"Lacks finesse, but gets your point across." Hutch nodded, pulling off his own dark green turtleneck. He shivered in the cool air, but a rush of desire warmed him nicely when Starsky looked over with smoldering blue eyes.

"Crude works for you, huh?" Starsky thrust his groin forward lewdly, pushing one hand under the front of his jeans. "And here I thought you were this refined, upper-class kind of guy."

"Your technique would be far improved if you were naked," Hutch pointed out, latching hold of Starsky's leather belt, the one that always flapped as if it was way too long.

"Think stripping would have been a better career move than driving a cab after the army?" Starsky purred, letting Hutch reel him in by the belt.

"I'd have paid good money for one of your lap dances." Hutch unbuckled the buckle and made fast work of Starsky's fly. Starsky groaned, his face going slack and sensual when his penis slipped free. Hutch rolled his palms around the thick, warm length, eliciting another erotic moan from Starsky.

"If you don't…" Starsky grit his teeth, inhaling sharply. "Stop that…" He shoved Hutch's hands away and pinched down on the base of his cock. "And show me your nice white, Scandinavian butt, I won't be responsible for my actions in the next few minutes."

"Scandinavian-Germanic," Hutch corrected, pushing a couple of pillows into place so that he could lie on his chest with his ass higher than his head.

"Yeah?" Starsky asked absently, placing one hand ever so gently on Hutch's backside. "I thought Grandfather Hutchinson was from Finland and your _mormor_ from Denmark."

Hutch felt Starsky splay his fingers wide so that the thumb just brushed over Hutch's anus.

"They were, it was my mother's m-mother…." Hitching a breath, Hutch exhaled slowly, loving every second of Starsky's careful, intense exploration of his butt cheeks. Every once in a while, his thumb would push hesitantly inside but then retreat, to be replaced by a light kiss just at the top of the curve of his ass, or a feather-light caress.

The chatter was keeping Hutch from getting aroused too quickly, which was good. He and Starsky didn't do anal often enough, so he wanted to remember every moment for the future. He looked over his shoulder to see Starsky kneeling on the bed, gazing at him with a look of utter adoration. Behind Starsky, through the open bedroom door, he could just see the small Christmas tree. The white bulbs seemed to surround Starsky like a halo.

"Hutch?" Starsky asked in a strange little voice. He stroked his thumb over Hutch's anus again as if fascinated by the way the opening clenched with any stimulation.

Hutch certainly knew that he loved the way that felt. "You okay, Starsk?"

"We were being so silly…" Starsky said slowly, tightly held emotion tied up in every word. "But when I get to this point, about to enter you…feels like I should, I dunno, pray or something."

"Give thanks?" Hutch shifted off his crossed arms and reached back to grasp Starsky's hand.

"That's it."

Hutch was surprised to see a hint of moisture in Starsky's eyes, but Starsky blinked and any sign of tears was gone.

Starsky flashed a slightly embarrassed, very crooked grin and shook himself. "Enough of that," he whispered, squeezing Hutch's hand. "You ready for me?"

"Always, babe," Hutch said, touched to the bottom of his soul.

"Where's the lube?" Starsky said, going back to the earlier raunchiness. He posed like a Playgirl centerfold, leaning back on his left hand and cupping his sac with his right. His heavy cock projecting like a sword without a sheath.

"I'm still waiting for that lap dance." Hutch smacked his partner's flat abdomen and Starsky chuckled, unable to hold his pose.

"I'm still waiting for the lube!"

"Where'd you leave it last?" Hutch asked, trying to think back. Had they used up the entire tube? He rummaged in the bedside drawer but came up empty.

"Oh, great, we get all ready and we don't have anything to slick up with?" Starsky jumped off the bed, stalking around the room. "I'm primed and about ready to go off!"

"Slow down, what about the old reliable?" Hutch suggested.

"Crisco?" Starsky fumed. "All gone, I made two pies for Kiko's mom, remember?"

"Damn." Hutch looked down at Starsky's erection. It was round and swollen, just right for plundering him, if only they had some way of greasing the entrance. In response, his own groin throbbed, very interested in more sex. "I like apple pie, but this is ridiculous."

"Hutch, I can't drive to the local drug store like this!" Starsky said desperately. "Come on, you're the college boy, think of something!" He flexed his fingers as if about ready to masturbate to relieve what must be immense pressure.

"Hey." Hutch kissed him, feeling all that pent-up tension in Starsky's muscles. "Relax, it's going to happen. There's got to be something in the house. We probably left the lube in the living room the last time." Using the Christmas tree lights to guide him, he poked under the sofa cushions. Nothing.

Going into the kitchen, Starsky snatched up the rum and took a swig right from the bottle.

Down on all fours, Hutch reached under the couch. "Starsk!" he called out. "I found it." Curling his fingers around the familiar tube, Hutch hauled it back out, only to stare at the twisted, dried up container in dismay.

"That must be an old tube!" Starsky groaned, taking another drink of straight rum. "Surely it wouldn't look like that when we were goin' at it a coupla days ago."

"Yeah—and we were…" Hutch snapped his fingers, reliving the last go round. "In the Torino."

"Oh, yeah." Remarkably, Starsky blushed the exact color of his beloved car. The Torino no longer safe to drive. After Starsky's shooting two years earlier, the bullet holes had been patched over but the car was no longer up to the standards the BCPD had instated for detective's vehicles.

Both Starsky and Hutch had had to get new cars to conform—although Starsky's current black mustang with a subtle white pinstripe along the chassis could only barely be considered as conforming.

Still, the Torino had its uses. The long red car sat in a place of honor in the garage, protected from wind and weather, and quite frequently used for making out.

"That was a good afternoon—with the rain pattering on the roof and you…." Starsky chuckled low and sexy. He drank more rum, licking his mouth afterward.

"Stop drinking all the sauce." Hutch took the bottle from him and gave Starsky a shove toward the bedroom. "Go get into the mood, I'll get the lube from the backseat."

"Can't you see?" Starsky waved at himself. "I'm already in the mood and then some."

Hutch admired Starsky's prominent display, feeling his own excitement building and raised his hand like a traffic cop. "Stay that way, babe. Be right back."

Hutch dashed down the hall, went through the connecting door to the garage and yanked open the back passenger door on the Torino. As if beholding the Holy Grail of legend, he had found exactly what he was looking for. Hutch snatched up the small, dented tube of KY jelly with gladness in his heart—and loins.

"Wanna do it in the car again?" Starsky asked from the hallway.

"No." He'd had his mind on other things but now Hutch realized how really cold the cement floor was on his bare feet. He had goosebumps again, but these were not as pleasurable as the last time. "It's freezing out here."

"I'll warm you up, Frosty." Starsky wrapped him in a bear hug, rubbing his hands up and down Hutch's back.

The friction felt fantastic—and because they were chest to chest, the friction from Starsky's cock against Hutch's was better than fantastic. "Starsk…" Hutch kissed the curve of his jaw.

"Get on the bed!" Starsky ordered, dragging him back to their bed. "I ain't holdin' out much longer. This train is about to leave the station." He uncapped the lube, applying it liberally to his length, hissing when the cool gel hit his hot flesh.

"You want me to…?" Hutch asked, reassuming the position, hips supported on a pillow, arms crossed so that he could rest his cheek on them and look backward.

"No, I'll go off too soon." Starsky inhaled noisily. "You ready?"

"More than ever."

Starsky pushed his thumbs into Hutch's anus, gently moving past the tight ring. Hutch gasped, breath caught somewhere under his diaphragm, accepting the intrusion. He couldn't wait for Starsky's cock to replace his thumbs, and felt his own cock throb in anticipation. He wanted to reach down and coax another orgasm out of himself, but was willing to wait until Starsky got into place.

Then, instead of the slight girth of Starsky's thumbs, a larger, thicker and more powerful weapon demanded entrance to Hutch's portal. Hutch sighed as Starsky thrust inward, breeching his inner being. He was stretched, widened. Each time, Hutch was amazed at the body's ability to expand and accept such something so large into a narrow space. And each time he was filled, he wanted more—to contain Starsky inside himself for all eternity. Holding a part of Starsky was such an incredible gift, one that he would never take for granted.

"Hutch!" Starsky cried out, pushing forward until his balls smacked Hutch on the butt. "This is all I want for Christmas…" He rocked back slightly and then pushed in again.

Every time Starsky moved, Hutch felt him go deeper inside, like a diver trying to reach the bottom of the ocean. Hutch was sure that Starsky would slide in so far that his cock would tickle the edge of Hutch's heart. He thrust back, driving Starsky further into his core, panting with the effort.

Sex with Starsky was definitely a full contact sport, and Hutch wasn't surprised when Starsky pulled out halfway and then carefully rotated himself. For a moment, they were an awkward tangle of long arms and legs, and then suddenly, both were on their sides, facing each other. Hutch shifted his hips, feeling Starsky's cock move inside him.  
It was a weird and wonderful sensation.

"Didn't want to come…" Starsky was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He pushed back his sweaty bangs and then stroked Hutch's cheek. "Without being able to watch you. See you…" He arched up, the climax obviously close at hand.

"God, I love you." Hutch caught Starsky around the waist, curving his own legs around his partner's. "C'mon, Starsk. Slide on home."

"I am home," Starsky managed just as he transformed, his whole body taut as a wire, vibrating.

Hutch felt the spasming clench of his inner muscles and tightened his legs around Starsky, going for his own cock. He probably wouldn't be able to climax so soon again, but it felt right to have his hands around warm, throbbing flesh just as Starsky was finishing.

"Hey," Hutch whispered, gathering Starsky in close. "You want to try for another round, slugger?"

"Mmm." Starsky squirmed, pulling out very slowly but Hutch still felt the strange, not-quite-pain, when his body released his partner. "Bases loaded, all struck out," Starsky muttered sleepily.

"No extra innings, huh?" Hutch nuzzled his neck, feeling the staccato percussion of Starsky's ribs against his chest when Starsky laughed.

"I was always a football kinda guy," Starsky said into Hutch's ear. "It's time for a huddle." He cuddled into Hutch's arms.

"Ah ha—no wonder you were wheedling for season's tickets to the Bay City Buccaneers." Hutch kissed Starsky on the mouth. He tasted like rum, sweet with a warm after-bite. Very tasty. Hutch kissed Starsky again.

"I do not wheedle." Starsky glared at him with a faked pout. He pulled the blankets up over them, despite his pretend pique.

"No, of course not, you only bring up the subject every ten minutes."

"Guess I don't have to wrap what I got for you, since you'd know what it was by the shape, anyway." Starsky licked Hutch across his collarbone, sending a frisson of arousal though him.

"You got me a record?" Hutch snorted. "How much did you spend at Tower records? Chicky must have gotten the salesman of the year award."

"Not going to tell you, you have to wait until Christmas Day, just like everybody else." Starsky glanced around the room. "Where'd the rum go? I'm thirsty."

"I have something better for Christmas Eve," Hutch said. "We still have to finish wrapping the presents. Eat some of the cookies my sister sent."

"Get 'em for me?" Starsky feigned weakness, fluttering his eyelids.  
"You sapped my strength."

"Didn't feel like that to me." Hutch slugged him lightly on the arm to give a little of his own back and climbed out of bed to find the cookies. His mouth watered at the thought of some of his German grandmother's spicy _Lebkuchen_ and _marzipanbrot_ , not to mention his Danish grandmother's gingerbread hearts, and the bottle of glogg that Karen had included in the package. "Give me a minute to warm up the wine."

"Wine?" Starsky grinned, drawing up his knees under his chin.

"It's an old family recipe and one glass has quite a kick." Hutch pulled on some sweatpants and walked down the hall. He snitched one of the ginger cookies from the box he'd left in the kitchen that afternoon and poured the fragrant mixture of red wine, spices and almonds into a pan to heat it up. Within minutes, the kitchen smelled heavenly, the pungent odor of the wine filling up the whole house.

As Hutch expected, Starsky was enticed into the kitchen by the scent, wearing nothing but a pair of denim cut-offs so short that his cock dangled enticingly from under the edge of the left leg hole. Hutch stirred the wine, staring at the provocative sight of his partner dressed so alluringly. What was it about a little bit of clothing hiding the goods that made them that much more attractive? Like wrapping paper over an anticipated present.

"Good cookies." Starsky munched _Lebkuchen_ , with a Danish Napoleon's hat cookie in his hand for the next course. "You started to tell me about your mother's mother?"

Hutch inhaled, almost getting a buzz from the heated alcohol, and ladled it into glasses, adding a stick of cinnamon for garnish. "She was originally from Germany, but moved a couple of times after the first world war, taking different traditions with her from all over Europe." He sipped his glogg, savoring the flavors of grape, nutmeg, cardamom and cinnamon mixed together. "But whatever she made, _Großmutter_ loved her rum. Put it into everything."

"A woman after my own heart." Starsky alternated glogg and cookie, leaning against the counter in close proximity to the cookie assortment. "There's rum in this, huh?"

"You'd better believe it. The German and Danish recipes for mulled wine are a little different, but if _Großmutter_ could throw in rum, she would—and did. Karen follows her recipe to the letter." Hutch tasted his again, bringing back old memories of Christmases at the Hutchinson house. His parents had divorced before he was in his mid teens, but they'd always tried to bring the family together for the holidays. "When I was twelve, _Großmutter_ Anna gave me my first mug of Christmas glogg," Hutch said softly. "It was so hot, I burned my tongue, but I waited, and finished the whole thing."

Starsky laughed, and Hutch could have drowned in the joy in his blue eyes. "Let me guess, you liked it so much, you went around and drank up the dregs from everybody else's cups, too."

"Ate every saturated raisin and almond, and licked the mugs clean." Hutch put his glass on the counter and selected a slice of the marzipan cake from the box. "I was so sick that I couldn't open my Christmas gifts that night."

"No wonder you stop at one." Starsky winked at him. "So, c'mon, look at the time. It's Christmas day." He pointed to the clock, both hands were nearly overlapping, pointing straight up. "What'd you get me for Christmas?"

"You said yourself that we had to wait until everyone else opened their presents. My lips are sealed." Hutch 'zipped' one finger across and threw away the key. "It's not from Tower Record, I can tell you that."

Starsky came in close to kiss him. "I really do love stuff with rum in it," he wheedled.

"Merry Christmas, Starsk." Hutch kissed him. Rum was very nice, but gingerbread spiced Starsky was even better.

Fin


End file.
